The duplicated grocery order came from Daniel’s phone.
The missed appointment had been canceled through my patient portal from our home computer while I was asleep.
The incorrect check had never cleared because the signature didn’t match mine.
Daniel had been creating the appearance of decline.
Not perfectly.
Not as part of some brilliant criminal mastermind’s plan.
Messily.
Opportunistically.
One incident at a time.
Monica asked:
“What happens financially if he controls your account?”
“He could access the money.”
“Anything else?”
“He could sell investments.”
“House?”
“The house is joint.”
“What about your mother’s cabin?”
I stared at her.
I had almost forgotten.
My mother had left me a small lake cabin in Virginia.
Value around $360,000.
Paid off.
Daniel loved it.
He had mentioned selling it after my diagnosis.
“Too much maintenance.”
I had said no.
Monica wrote it down.
Then we learned Daniel had already contacted a real estate agent.
